The Singing Sword

XIII

Draco was wrong. Caius did not come to see me. Now that I had regained consciousness, however, my recovery was a quick one. I gained strength by the hour, helped by the nourishing broths and eventually by the solid, wholesome food that Draco and the others made such a show of begrudging me. I knew that Caius had returned to Londinium with Stilicho late on that first evening, because he sent word to me that he was back and happy to hear that I was better, but he did not come himself. The following day, Draco brought me a letter written in Caius's familiar hand. I read it immediately, sitting up on my bench now without effort. It was terse and unsigned.

I rejoice that you are better and improving rapidly. You frightened all of us for a while. I may not come to you; the dangers are too great. Be assured that I have not been idle on your behalf. Much has been done. More remains to be done. You will be brought to trial soon. Have no fears. This travesty will soon be dealt with and forgotten by all of us. Rufinus is dead. Your enemy has no friends in the Empire now. Do not be tempted to keep this. Give it back to the messenger to return to me.

I read the missive three times before re-rolling it and handing it back to Draco. "What dangers are too great?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "Seneca's the danger. He has men everywhere. If Caius Britannicus were to visit you, it would be reported, and that would do no one any good. Seneca's completely fooled, we think. He has no idea of how we really feel about you. He believes that you really are the rebel we said you are."

"So? I can understand that. But who is Rufinus? I know the name but cannot place it with a face or a position."

"Regent in the East as Stilicho is in the West."

As soon as he said the words, I remembered. Picus had told us in a letter how Theodosius had split the guarding of his twin sons between his two finest commanders, Flavius Stilicho and Flavius Rufinus. Divide and conquer. While each of them lived, there could be little danger of the other usurping the children's thrones.

I pondered that one. "What has that to do with Seneca?"

Draco grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing, and everything. Seneca was a spy for Rufinus, it seems. Set to keep watch on Stilicho. Now Rufinus is dead."

I gaped at him. "How do you know that?"

He grinned. "The General told me. Stilicho told him." I was not the only one of Cay's veterans who still referred to him as "the General."

"Stilicho knew? And did nothing?"

"Couldn't. Devious reasons, I'm told. Too many people could be hurt if he did anything. So he put up with it. And with Seneca."

"Britannicus told you this? To tell me?"

"Why else? None of my affair."

"How did Rufinus die?"

Draco made a face and shook his head, indicating ignorance and indifference.

"And Seneca knows nothing of this?"

"Nothing. Only Stilicho knows. And Britannicus, and me, and now you."

I was mystified. "Why would he tell me this? I am to be tried soon. How soon? Do you know?" He shook his head. "Does Caius Britannicus know?" Again a head shake. I tutted in frustration and waved him away, and he left me alone to practise walking and struggle with my thoughts, which were far from tranquil.

Two days later I was awakened by my regular guards and told that I was to be indicted before a military tribunal that same morning. They hauled me upright, bound me with walking chains around my ankles and shackled my hands behind my back. I was almost sick with terror, and more than aware of the weakness in my legs, as they marched me out of my cell and up a long and winding stairway, where I teetered insecurely alongside the vertiginous depths of the stairwell. A long passageway at the top of the stairs led to an inner courtyard, and the brightness of the morning sun blinded me after the gloom and darkness I had become used to. But even as we walked, I felt myself grow stronger, and soon I was stepping almost normally for me, feeling the tug of the chains and hearing their metallic rattle at every step I took. The dazzle left my eyes and I began to see again, and the first thing I saw was my own filth-encrusted tunic; and then, out in the brightness and the clean air, I smelled my own stink and it was almost enough to make me retch. The tribunal, I thought bitterly, would really be impressed by my appearance.

I had a surprise in store, however, for my guards led me directly to a bath house where they undid my chains and stripped me and let me bathe in cold water. When I had finished, they threw me a bundle of clothes that were clean, compared to those I had discarded. None of the six men escorting me spoke or took his eyes from me for a moment. When I was dressed, they chained me again and we continued our journey towards the central complex of the military headquarters buildings. With the wash and the change of clothes, I felt better than I had in weeks, and I began to tell myself that I could feel confident in Caius's judgment. But I was difficult to convince.

There was no doubt that the Imperial Presence was here in Londinium. Even in the alleys and rear passageways of the buildings there were Imperial Household Troops everywhere. Security was absolute. My escort passed me through a series of checkpoints, each progressively more thorough, until we entered one building and found ourselves in an anteroom of some kind, where my six guards handed me over formally to a centurion and two Household Troopers, all resplendent in the crimson and sky-blue uniforms of the Emperor's personal guard. The two troopers flanked me, and we proceeded along another dark passageway, which came to an abrupt end at a heavy door. My guards stepped closer to me here, each holding an arm as the centurion opened the door and led us through.

We were in the tribunal, a large room shaped like an amphitheatre and lined with stepped seats arranged in a horseshoe, all facing a dais at the end of which sat a long table and three high-backed chairs. Every head in the room turned to look at me as I stepped through the doorway. There must have been fifty officers present, all in full-dress uniform, each of them holding his helmet formally in the crook of his left arm. The assembled tribunes of the seat of power in the province of South Britain. At first, the faces were all the same, indistinguishable one from the other, but then a few of them, the older faces, started to become familiar. At the front, seated beside the open space reserved for me directly in front of the dais, sat Caius Britannicus and Caesarius Claudius Seneca. As my eyes focused on Seneca, a wave of hatred and loathing swept completely over me, making me lose all awareness of who and where I was. Strangely, the sight of Caius had no effect on me at all, not even one of relief.

My escort tugged me forward and I moved to the front of the room, my chains noisy in the utter silence. I ignored the faces around me — their arrogance, curiosity, hostility and disdain — and forced myself to look only straight ahead, fixing my eyes on a spot on the wall ahead of me. Aware of the figure I must have presented in my prison clothes, I braced my shoulders and stood as tall as I was able.

They must have been waiting and watching, for as soon as I had come to a standstill in front of the dais, a door opened in the wall behind it and a group of brilliantly dressed senior tribunes entered and made their way up onto the rostrum. I found myself face to face with Flavius Stilicho, Commander-in-Chief of the armies of Imperial Rome, and now Regent to the young Emperor Honorius.

There was no mistaking him, in spite of the fact that his dress was identical to that of his companions. I suddenly remembered Caius remarking, years before, that dress has a way of fading to insignificance under the aura of the truly great men of any age, and this man's entire demeanour stamped him as unique. We had been talking about greatness, and Caius had said that men of destiny carry about them the pristine qualities of the great predators they frequently resemble. Here was living proof of that. Theodosius had carried himself with the bearing of a great tiger-cat. Julius Caesar is always portrayed with the aspect of an eagle. Flavius Stilicho was a Vandal hawk. The image sprang immediately into my mind on seeing him. He was compactly built, giving an impression of great strength and agility, and his bare forearms were thick, roped with heavy, clearly defined muscles. His face was lean and saturnine, with huge, dark, almost black eyes. His mouth was small and clear-lined, the lips firm and full above a strong, dimpled chin. His face was dominated by a small, savagely hooked nose. That nose, in fact, dominated his whole appearance, with his eyes and his broad, high, unlined forehead. In spite of his youth, for he was only twenty-nine at this time, his hair had begun receding from his temples, leaving a pointed peak at the centre of his brow, and even from where I stood below him, looking upwards uncomfortably at his eminence, I could see the intellect that lay behind that brow and blazed through his dark eyes.

The group of seven arranged themselves so that four remained standing, arms folded on their breasts, behind the three chairs. Stilicho stepped forward and took the central chair, flanked by the remaining two tribunes. But he did not sit. His eyes swept downward to where I stood below him, and I saw something stir in their depths, although I could not have described what it was. He looked at me, deep and long, his eyes now expressionless, and then he moved his gaze around the tribunal, ending with Seneca and Caius. There was not a sound in the great room. When he finally sat, everyone else sat, too, except me, my guards and the four standing tribunes on the dais behind him. Stilicho pursed his lips and then spoke, addressing the room at large.

"This is a military tribunal; as Commander-in-Chief, I sit in judgment. This is also a civil tribunal; as Regent of his Imperial Majesty, Honorius, I sit in judgment. The matters before this body today are complex and involve both military and civil questions. The prisoner before us stands accused of serious crimes." He looked down at the parchment he had been holding and unrolled it. "I shall enumerate them.

"One: It is alleged by Caesarius Claudius Seneca that the prisoner, unknown to him by name, did fourteen years ago, in the company of another man, also unknown to the complainant, commit an unprovoked assault upon Claudius Seneca in a public mansio, while Claudius Seneca was engaged upon the private business of Valentinian, then Emperor. In the course of that assault it is alleged that the prisoner broke the complainant's nose and mutilated his body by carving a letter V upon his chest.

"Two: It is alleged by Caesarius Claudius Seneca that the prisoner, whose name was still unknown to the complainant, was recognized in the town of Aquae Sulis two years later and ordered to surrender himself to Quinctus Nesca, uncle of the complainant and a magistrate of this province. The allegation states further that in trying to avoid capture on the pre-stated charge, the prisoner brought about the deaths of two of Quinctus Nesca's retainers and murdered the magistrate himself, by strangulation, during the night that followed.

"Three: It is alleged by Caesarius Claudius Seneca that upon his arrival at the home of Caius Britannicus, former Proconsul of Numidia, and Senator of Rome, he found the prisoner, under the name of Vulcan, being held by the Proconsul prior to being brought here to Londinium to stand trial on charges of brigandage and armed rebellion." He stopped and looked up, nodding towards Caius. "Senator Caius Britannicus is present here. Those are the charges as delivered to this tribunal. Are there any comments?"

"Yes, my Lord Regent!" Seneca was on his feet, his face slightly flushed, an arrogant sneer on his lips. "It is a minor matter, but one that requires clarification. You neglected to state in your reading that Senator Britannicus sustains the charges."

Stilicho gazed at him in silence for long seconds before replying, his face devoid of expression. "I neglected nothing, Senator Seneca." He looked down briefly, hesitated, and looked up again. "No, that is not quite true, although the neglect has no bearing on the matters before us. I neglected to mention before the start of these proceedings that I have been informed of the sudden death of the Regent of the Eastern Empire, Flavius Rufinus. He will be missed."

There was a concerted hiss of indrawn breath at this and I turned my head quickly to see the effect of the announcement on Seneca. I was delighted to see the blood drain visibly from his face, and I began to feel more sanguine about the outcome of all of this, although I was still mystified. Stilicho ignored the effect of his announcement on Seneca and continued speaking, his voice clear and crystalline, ringing throughout the tribunal.

"As the personal representative and Regent of the Emperor Honorius, I am entitled, should I so elect, to decide these matters at my sole discretion and announce my judgment. I have chosen not to do so for a number of reasons. I appointed the Legates Larrens and Titanius, here present, to assist me in compiling and assessing the evidence and testimony we could amass concerning these charges, some of which are very old. We have been engaged in that pursuit for the past forty-eight hours. Our joint findings are as follows."

He fell silent for a moment, staring intently at the document he still held open in front of him, and then he raised his head and spoke again into the silence. "In the matter of the assault, fourteen years ago, the Legate Larrens has led the investigation. Legate?"

Larrens rose to his feet and, to my utter amazement, proceeded to detail testimony offered and formally attested to by Plautus regarding the details of the assault and the provocation leading up to it. Seneca stood through all of it as though carved from stone. When Larrens had finished his recital, Stilicho stared stern-faced at Seneca.

"Now," he said, "there is one other piece of testimony that this tribunal does not have, but it is my understanding that it can be produced within days if Senator Seneca so desires."

I found myself holding my breath, wondering what this could be as I waited for him to continue. He did, his eyes unwavering on Seneca.

"The owner of the mansio, his wife and his two sons still live there. There is little doubt in the minds of this tribunal that they will recall the excitement of the events under discussion here. Senator Seneca, is it your wish that they be summoned here subpoena?"

The silence in the room was total. Seneca's face was ashen. Finally, after a lengthy silence, he jerked his head in a negative. "No!" He swallowed visibly and with difficulty. "I will... accept the ruling of the tribunal."

"So be it. This tribunal finds the prisoner innocent of any criminality in this matter. The assault he committed was justifiable and provoked. Now, in the matter of the murder of the magistrate Quinctus Nesca. Legate Titanius?"

My legs almost gave way with relief! As I struggled to keep my breathing normal, the Legate Titanius rose to his feet and detailed the meticulous testimony of the witnesses we had brought from home concerning the affair in Aquae Sulis. When he had finished and sat down again, Stilicho looked around the room and spoke again.

"Bear in mind, everyone here, that this manhunt for the prisoner was unjustifiable... No punishable crime had been committed by him. In the year that followed the original assault, however, the prisoner undertook a journey to the west, to be married. In the course of that journey, he survived three attempts upon his life, all made by the same group of hired assassins. On the last of these occasions, the prisoner captured one of these men alive and handed him over to the military authorities in Alchester. The assassin, before he was hanged, made a full confession. He confessed to being in the paid employ of Quinctus Nesca, who had offered a large reward in gold for the head of a man — any man — fitting the prisoner's description. The officer who took that confession is stationed now in the north of the province, at Arboricum. Senator Seneca, do you wish this tribunal to order the recall of that officer for questioning before we pass judgment on this matter?"

Again the terrible, afflicted silence before a jerked, negative headshake and a whispered "No."

"So let it be. It is the judgment of this tribunal that the prisoner, Publius Varrus, is innocent of complicity in the murder of Quinctus Nesca. This tribunal also finds the prisoner justified in taking the lives of Nesca's two employees in the protection of his own."

He paused. "Now, in the matter of armed rebellion and banditry." He looked directly at me. "Senator Caius Britannicus will address this tribunal."

Caius rose to his feet, and my guards made no move to check me as I turned my head to look at him.

"Explain the circumstances of your arrest of this man Varrus on these charges." Stilicho's voice was devoid of emphasis.

Caius looked around at the assembled officers, at me, and then at Seneca, before returning his eyes to Stilicho and his two legates. "The charges are specious, my Lord Regent," he said. "They are totally without substance. I fabricated them an hour before the arrival of Claudius Seneca." I knew that Caius had purposely avoided the use of Seneca's senatorial rank. "I had received warning of his imminent arrival, and I knew all the circumstances relating to his hatred for this man, my friend, Publius Varrus. I conceived the subterfuge of bringing Varrus to Londinium under guard as the only means at my disposal of guaranteeing his life."

I could feel Seneca's eyes on me, the hatred in his gaze stinging my skin like acid.

Stilicho spoke again. "How long have you known the prisoner, Senator?"

"For almost three decades, my Lord Regent."

"And you have found him honourable in all that time?"

"Completely."

"To what extent?"

Caius looked at me before continuing and then turned back to the rostrum. "Publius Varrus served with me as a centurion before the first attack on the Wall, my Lord Regent. In the aftermath of the Invasion, I elevated him to the rank of tribune for his conduct in the field. He received the wound that crippled him towards the close of the campaign conducted by the Emperor Theodosius against the invaders, and was responsible for saving my life on that occasion, when we were ambushed in the high mountains. In all the time that I have known him, he has consistently behaved with honour, loyalty, integrity and all of the finest attributes of what we are proud to call the Roman Way."

"Thank you, Proconsul." Caius sat down as Stilicho rose to his feet and banged his ivory baton on the rostrum. "Let all men present hear. In the name of Honorius, Emperor, this tribunal declares the accused, Publius Varrus, innocent of all charges and exonerated completely in the eyes of God and man. So let it be. Strike off the prisoner's chains and see that he is fed and bathed and dressed as befits his rank and the injustices done him. This tribunal is adjourned. Tribune Seneca! My quarters, please. Immediately."

As conversations broke out all around, I stood there alone and knew beyond a doubt that all of the enemies Caius had ever made, combined, could not add up to one-tenth of the hatred he had earned that day from Caesarius Claudius Seneca. Until that day, Seneca's obsession with me had, it seemed, been the driving impetus of his life, apart from making money. But now he had another focus for his hatred. Caius Britannicus. And I felt heavily in my guts that Claudius Seneca had ample capacity for double hatred.